Page 109 of Grace on the Rocks

Wes shrugged. “It’sthree a.m. whereI’mfrom,” she said and sauntered inside, soBryanfinger-combed his hair and went to pour the whisky.

“Is she all right?” he allowed himself to ask calmly while his back was facing his guest.

“She’s a mess, actually, but she has been for a long time.That’snot on you.”

A fresh wave of guilt hit his belly, and he took a fortifying sip ofArdbeg.Afterall, it was probably five o’clock inAustralia.

When he handed a glass toWes, she lifted it in salute and said, “Slàinte.”

“Slàinte mhath,” he replied, taking another sip.

“If it helps, she knows she overreacted.”

It didn’t, really, since they’d parted on friendly-ish terms, a mutual acknowledgment that things were coming to their natural conclusion.Touristseventually go home—that’s their whole allure, and the biggest reason not to get involved.

“Are you really just going to let her go back toTennessee?”Wesasked.

“As opposed to kidnapping her and keeping her in my cellar?”

Wes grinned over herGlencairnglass.

“Did you convince her to celebrate her birthday?” he asked.

Her smile fell and she shook her head. “Igot her a present, but… in light of everything,Ididn’t feel likeIcould bully her into my idea of how she should party.Notthis year.”

An idea tickled in the back ofBryan’shead.

“I hate it, you know?Iam a person who strongly believes in celebrating yourself as often as possible, and you only turn thirty once.”

“I thinkCaitturned thirty two or three times.”

Wes didn’t pause to laugh at his joke. “Sheclaims to hate birthday parties, andIget it.Somepeople don’t like fun.Butthe happiestIcan remember seeing her was when we tricked her into having a twenty-first.”

“I turned thirty alone in a bad karaoke bar,”Bryanadmitted.Ithad been grim.

Though he’d mostly knownGracewith her nose to the grindstone, it was incongruous to picture her as someone who didn’t like fun.She’dresisted going out because of her deadline, but at the ceilidh she’d been lit up by the music and dancing.Why, her first night onBarra, he’d seen her cut loose at karaoke.

“She said she wanted a piñata,” he recalled.Thetickle in his brain turning into a flood, pushing its way to the surface of his thoughts.

“Oh yeah,”Wesgrinned.

He glanced at his tablet, which these days he mostly thought of as the library that held a single book byGracieRios.

“What?”Wesasked, drawing the word out, reading his face a little too easily.

“Do you know why she cancelled her quinceañera?”

Her brows pinched together, and she frowned. “Ididn’t know her then.Afterreading her book,Ialways assumed she had one.Areyou sure?”

Bryan nodded, tears clogging his throat. “Therewas an in­cident at school, and she fought with her dad, and… decided she didn’t deserve one.”

“And she’s been punishing herself ever since?”Wesasked, beginning to understand. “Thatdoes sound likeGray.”

“Maybe it’s time we give her the quince she deserves?”

A slow smile spread acrossWesley’sface. “Well,” she said, “She’lleither love it or hate it.”

“Aye,”Bryanagreed. “Butwe can’t do it alone.”

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